


Telescope

by supermassive



Category: MCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, First Date, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Losing Powers, M/M, Magic, Mutual Pining, are funny and kind, fuck that grape honestly lmao, not that much angst tho, peter is adorable and thoughtful, pre thanos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 12:01:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16912509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supermassive/pseuds/supermassive
Summary: It wasn’t something he’d ever imagined deciding on, but in that one moment, trembling and limp on the concrete, he wondered how he had even let it get that bad in the first place. And so he decided. He decided that if he couldn’t walk without using magic, he didn’t want to walk at all.——-When Stephen gets into an accident and experiences a temporary loss in his powers, he realises how heavily he’s been relying on magic. To breathe, to talk, to walk. He decides that he needs to do some things on his own. But there’s one task he just can’t seem to manage - putting on his watch. Cue Tony: his knight in shining (iron) armour.Fluff or whatever :)





	Telescope

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, gals, and non-binary pals I say thank you for clicking on this fic and good luck reading it. I am not what one may consider “linguistically component” or “traditionally good” or even “just okay” so I hope that you enjoy reading this :)

 

 

 

It was about five weeks ago when Stephen made the decision. It wasn’t something he’d ever imagined deciding on, but in that one moment, trembling and limp on the concrete, he wondered how he had even let it get that bad in the first place. And so he decided.

 

He had sensed the static in the air as he got closer to the epicentre of the chaos. His hairs began to repel themselves and fuzz up as he sprinted straight into the battle. Civilians sprawled out across the floor. Blood and some cracking of electricity. He could sense all sorts of fields circling him - magnetic, electric, forceful - and none were flowing in his favour.

 

There stood the enemy. He was young. He was so young. And Stephen felt sorry for him.

 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said in the low voice which seemed to flow slowly like honey. “I’m here to bargain.”

 

“Your bargain can get fucked,” the boy replied, turning to face Stephen, sparks crackling around his edges as he waded thorough the air.

 

“Kid-“ Stephen began, but it was too late. The kid was already shooting.

 

Almost instinctively, Stephen threw up his hands to cast a protective forcefield between the himself and the bullets. He realised his mistake as a whirring noise appeared, first low and almost distant, then closer and louder, with popping and snapping. His shield, usually a slowly flowing blue, shocked green and jerked about like a rabbit caught in a snare. It fractured up through Stephen’s hands, the immense energy flooding his body from the inside out. With a clap of electricity to challenge the likes of Thor, Stephen fell to the ground with an ungraceful thud. The fields in the air had interacted with his own in the worst way possible, and when his eyes opened God-knows-how-long later, he was staring at the concrete, body in a Stephen-shaped heap, unable to move a muscle.

 

Paralysis felt nothing like how he’d imagined. It wasn’t completely still. He could still feel his thoughts jumping about in that empty shell, his will to move as consistent as the blood coursing though his veins. But he wouldn’t budge. That shock had stunned the magic - he couldn’t use it. Not at that moment anyway. So all he could do was watch the strands of hair in front of his face sway in the wind as he waited for help to arrive.

 

It wasn’t something he’d ever imagined deciding on, but in that one moment, trembling and limp on the concrete, he wondered how he had even let it get that bad in the first place. And so he decided. He decided that if he couldn’t walk without using magic, he didn’t want to walk at all.

 

————————

 

Physiotherapy was hell. In the first session he couldn’t even make it to standing. The stupid therapist acted like lifting his arms was some grand achievement.  _I used to be a surgeon, you know, lady._

 

Well after working on it every day for a number of weeks, Stephen had made some considerable progress. He could walk, hold his own bags and serve his own food and carry his own plate to the table and eat his own fucking dinner. He’d avoided eating as much as he could before - having to be fed was one of the worst imaginable things to Stephen. He was tempted to use his magic in times like those. But he promised himself not to give in. So he didn’t.

 

The curtain hook had got latched on to a bump in the rail last night and Stephen didn’t have the strength to fix it. After some effort, he decided that it wasn’t that important, and went to bed with a crack in the curtains. In the morning he would wake to regret that decision as the sun abused his eyes, and he was seeing flashing lights for some minutes because of it.

 

Lifting himself out of bed with a huff from the strain, he slowly stood. Standing still was harder than walking - having to maintain that motionless balance made him feel more likely to topple. He often settled on swaying back and forth: the momentum kept him up. After walking carefully towards his drawers, he began to get dressed. He only wore t-shirts as he couldn’t grasp his hands close enough to do up buttons. Same with the trousers - he was forced to wear sweatpants or anything that didn’t require buttoning. Zips were challenging but possible.

 

Stephen was rummaging for a hairbrush in his bedside table drawers when his hand found it. His old watch. Pulling it slowly from the nick-nack wreckage, and holding it in front of his face, he observed the thing in his trembling hand. He kept his watches well looked after, usually, and even thought this one was in a drawer full of rubbish, it didn’t look bad. Sitting on his bed with the watch in his hand, Stephen took deep breathes.

 

“Are we really going to try this today?” He uttered to himself. With another deep breath, this time in affirmation, he lay the watch over his wrist. That was the easy part. Next was the not-so-easy part. He grasped the leather straps and twisted his wrist over so that he could attempt the buckle. Hands shaking, he tried to pull one strap through the loop on the other. This took several attempts, and every time he got it almost through, he would lose strength and let go, watching the strap slip back out. When he had eventually managed to get it through and pull it to the right tightness, he stopped. He took a look at the silver buckle mechanism and began to cry. He knew that it was impossible.

 

Stephen was never really one for asking for help. But for some reason the act of wearing this watch really meant something to him. So, with the watch clasped carefully in his fist, he shuffled out of his room in search for a friend.

 

There were many friends here at the avengers compound. Living together was useful and homely. There was always someone you could talk to. Stephen had his favourites, of course. Clint was hilarious. Natasha was witty. Bruce was intelligent and kind. Tony was-

 

Well, Tony was Tony. Stephen didn’t like to acknowledge the swell in his chest whenever Tony caught his eye, or laughed, or raised his eyebrow when he was deep in thought. He put it down to his dumbass weak body and thought maybe the magic had replaced his emotions too, when he was using it for everything. He chose to forget that these feelings had been present long before the accident. So he felt half-lucky, half-embarrassed when Tony was the first person he found, standing eating cereal in the kitchen with his eyes fixed on the TV.

 

“You know, some recent research suggests that eating while standing up can cause weight gain because you’re more likely to overeat,” Stephen said with no effort to project his voice. He liked keeping the volume easy. He thought that if people really wanted to know what he had to say, they would listen properly. That, and it added to his laid-back (cocky) attitude which he’d picked up somewhere in med school.

 

“Ooh, that’s hot, talk more science to me, baby,” Tony quipped, as a way to indicate that he would eat however he wanted, thank you very much. Stephen knew that the flirty tone was a joke, but he felt his face grow warmer nonetheless.

 

“Well don’t come crying to me when you have to make width adjustments to the iron suit,” Stephen joked. This conversation was a good waste of time while he built up the courage to ask for Tony’s help.

 

“Are you gonna stand in the doorway all day or do you need something?” Tony asked playfully, with a mouth full of cheerios. Stephen grew warmer still.

 

“Actually, I do need your help.” He mumbled. Tony set down his bowl.

 

“Talk to me.”

 

Stephen paused, took a breath. Was he really about to ask for help. Him?

 

“Can you...” he sighed. “Can you help me with my watch?” He asked, staring at the floor. Grey fleck number 6425 was looking at him funny. Stephen never liked marble.

 

“Oh, of course,” Tony said, walking over to Stephen. Stephen passed him the watch from shaky hands. “Hey, this is a nice one,” Tony said, taking Stephen’s wrist and pushing up his sleeve. Tony’s hands were cold from holding the bowl of cereal. Stephen was always far too warm. The difference was electrifying. Working with soft touches, Tony pulled the strap through the loop and tightened the buckle. “This tight enough?” He asked.

 

Stephen moved his wrist about. The watch was a little loose. That, and he wanted to feel that mesmerising touch again.

 

“One more,” he replied. Tony tightened the buckle and pulled Stephen’s sleeve back down his arm.

 

There was silence for a while.

 

“Thank you, Tony,” Stephen said, blushing inwardly. He was lost for words. Being so close to Tony, feeling the heartbeat in his fingertips as they brushed his wrist. That was heavenly. Tony held his gaze. His eyes were searching deep in Stephen’s, scrutinising every twitch, every blink.

 

Then he turned away. The world fell back to grey.

 

“I’m heading out,” Stephen uttered as he walked towards the elevator door. Stairs would be too much for him today. “You need anything?” He asked as he stepped into the lift.

 

“Only for you to come back,” Tony said with his usual silver tongue. Those words held stagnant in the air as the doors crept closed.

 

————————

 

Stephen walked. He walked, and he walked some more. Last time he was at this destination, he was running. It seemed quicker.

 

He arrived at the place where it happened. Stood where he had fallen. He looked around and watched people go about their busy days, a businesswoman on the phone. A taxi driver waiting for his next catch. A group of tourists on a tour.

 

Not long ago, people like these were on the floor.

 

_Not long ago, so was I._

 

Stephen bent down to touch the ground, smooth his fingertips over the cold concrete. He crouched, then sat. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the smell of the place, felt the breeze bite his nose and ears. Felt his hair sway left and then right, just like it had done weeks ago.

 

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Hey,” the woman said. She sat down next to him, in the middle of the paved square, with crossed legs.

 

“Hello,” he greeted. He may have been holding off on the magic, but spirit and fate was something he could never unlearn. The ancient one would never let him. He knew not to question the strange woman talking to him. At this very second, she had a purpose.

 

“You saved my life,” she said. The breeze blew through his hair again. “A few weeks ago. Right here,” she said, staring off in a straight, unbroken line. “He was going to shoot me. Then you showed up. Blew yourself up like that, it flashed all green and red. He saw that and he fell. Forgot about little old me.”

 

Stephen nodded. The woman continued.

 

“That sacrifice you made, I could tell that it hurt you. You wouldn’t move. I was on the floor just behind you - I was hurt and couldn’t get up. But you were paralysed. I was speaking to you but you didn’t answer. You did something incredible - you saved everyone there. I can only say thank you.”

 

Stephen blinked. The ancient one was right about fate. He hadn’t known that the bad guy got caught - that he’d blown him over. That he’d saved anyone. The world decided to bow down to fate that evening.

 

He turned to look at the woman. Beautiful, with blonde hair. In blue hospital uniform. She was a doctor. And so when he had saved her, and she had saved all those people in her day-to-day life, it’s like he had saved all those people too. Just like he used to before the car crash and the magic and the avengers. Tears appeared in his eyes.

 

“No, thank you,” Stephen whispered, choking. “Thank you so much.”

 

——————————

 

Stephen arrived at the seventh floor of the tower block with a ding of the elevator. Stepping out, he saw Steve and Tony in deep conversation on the sofa. Tony looked up and noticed him, and smiled nice and wide. Stephen’s face warmed as he shuffled into the space, instantly warming up, and starting to remove his scarf with his trembling limbs.

 

“Warmer in here, ain’t it?” Tony said, walking up to Strange. He took his scarf and coat and hung it up on the rack for him, up on his tiptoes to reach the top hooks. Stephen laughed at this. “What’s so funny?” Tony asked.

 

“You’re short,” he said, chuckling.

 

“And you never speak loud enough,” he replied, “for someone with such a sexy voice,” he said, winking before he swaggered away. Stephen was stunned into stillness for a moment or two. “Cat got your tongue?” Tony drawled from across the room.

 

Strange didn’t know what to say, so he just chuckled and headed out of the room.

 

“Where you off to in such a hurry?” Tony asked after him.

 

“My room.”

 

“Without me?” Tony flirted. Stephen blushed, but kept walking. It was only a fucking joke.

 

After Strange had left the room, Steve turned to Tony.

 

“Dude, seriously?” He asked.

 

“What?”

 

“You know, flirting like a jackass isn’t going to get you anywhere with him. You ever heard of subtlety?”

 

“To hell with subtlety,” Tony laughed. “Who needs it?”

 

“He needs it,” Steve said, his voice stern, the conversation reaching a clear turning point. “He’s fragile, Tony. He’s weak and afraid. He’s not himself recently and you need to adjust to that. He’s too tired to quip with you. He’s so fucking insecure now that he’ll barely look you in the eye. You have to be gentle with him.”

 

“I know he’s hurting and I know that some things have changed. But I still feel the same way about him,” Tony murmured, his low voice buzzing.

 

“You have to tell him, Tony. You must.”

 

“I don’t have to do anything,” Tony whispered before standing up and walking away. In reality, he was afraid. He was so scared to tell Stephen how he felt that it physically hurt. So for now he was going to take what he could get.

 

———————

 

After a week of doing so, Tony helping Stephen with his watch had become a ‘thing’. Tony waited for Stephen to come and find him every morning and savoured every fleeting touch as their bodies got so close; even if it was just for a moment. Stephen didn’t even have to ask, he just walked in to the room and Tony took the watch from him without a word. He would often watch Tony’s eyes as he did it, saw how they shook from side to side with the focus. His eyelashes were gentle and lay on his face like freshly fallen snow, his lips parted like a valley and freckles like constellations of stars. He needed to be closer. The forces of the universe were whispering for him to get closer. He stayed at his distance, gazing.

 

“The things NASA would do if they stumbled upon you...” Stephen muttered, despite himself.

 

“Sorry?” Tony said, looking up into Strange’s eyes.

 

“Nothing. Just wish I could get a closer look.”

 

“At what?” Tony asked.

 

“The stars.” He said, searching Tony’s face.

 

“Well all you need for that is the right telescope.” He replied. Stephen chuckled. The right telescope, indeed.

 

———————

 

“Mr. Dr. Strange?” Peter asked from his end of the table. Stephen was sitting on the other end, pen in hand, practising his handwriting. It was a fucking mess. His hand was in spasm from gripping the pen. He didn’t feel like giving up.

 

“Yes, Peter?”

 

“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this-” he said. Stephen put down his pen and looked in to Peter’s eyes.

 

“Is everything okay, kid?”

 

“- but I feel like I need to.” Stephen nodded. “I think Mr Stark might have a crush on you.”

 

Stephen was stunned. “Excuse me?”

 

“Well, he looked upset this morning, so I asked him what was wrong, and he said that you didn’t ask him for help with your watch this morning. He said he was afraid you were angry at him.”

 

“Well that doesn’t mean he has a crush on me, Peter,” Stephen smiled, trying to stay rational, but there was hope in his heart after hearing what Peter has just said. Maybe those little interactions each morning felt special on both sides.

 

“He looks happy and sad when people talk about you. Like, he’s happy when he hears your name. But then he look sad when he thinks about it too much. He never looks sad when you’re in the room.” Peter said. There was some silence. “And it’s obvious that you like him too.”

 

“What!” Stephen replied, panicked but also amused. “What do you mean obvious!”

 

“So you do like him!” Peter exclaimed gleefully. Stephen rolled his eyes and motioned for Peter to explain. “It’s just the way you look at him, Mr. Strange-“

 

“-you can call me Stephen”

 

“-like he’s made of gold or something.”

 

Stephen didn’t know what to say. After several moments, when he finally opened his mouth to speak, Natasha came walking in.

 

“You really do look at him like that,” she said nonchalantly, opening the fridge to search for something acceptable to snack on.

 

“What! Does bloody everyone know, then!?”

 

“I think the only person who doesn’t know,” Bruce began as he strolled in to the room. Stephen threw up his hands in frustration, “is Tony himself.”

 

“Well thank God for that,” Stephen muttered. Clint and Steve walked in. This was becoming like a comedy now. Soon God himself would drop by to have in on the fun. Well, fun for the others, less so for Strange. Clint spoke.

 

“Why thank God? Surely you’d want him to know that you liked him?” Everyone in the room turned, expectant as they waited for his answer.

 

Stephen was about to say ‘well he would never like me back so what would be the fucking point of telling him that, it would just be useless and embarrassing and-‘

 

When Tony walked in. Everyone held their breath.

 

“You guys plotting to kill me or something?” He chuckled, putting his phone in his pocket.

 

“We discussed that in yesterday’s meeting,” Stephen joked, picking up his pen and trying to write some more so he wouldn’t have to look Stark in the eye. Right now, that would just about kill him.

 

“Well, ah, the council is dismissed,” Tony said pointedly, as a hint for everyone to _get the fuck out, now, please._ Everyone got the hint, bar Clint, who had to be pulled away by the arm by Natasha. Tony went to sit beside Strange.

 

He looked at the paper before him. A squiggly scruff, with barely recognisable letters and words, all across the creased page. Stephen noticed him staring.

 

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

 

“Well, you know what they say about doctor’s handwriting,” Tony joked.

 

Stephen chuckled and shoved Tony’s arm playfully, even if he didn’t have much strength.

 

“It’s good,” Tony said, the tone more sincere now. “I’m proud of you. That shit’s difficult.”

 

“Yeah...” Stephen sighed. “Yeah, it is.” They stay in a comfortable silence.

 

“Hey,” Tony said. Stephen thought that he sounded nervous. “Are you mad at me?” He asked. He sounded all vulnerable and childish. It was cute. And weird - coming from Tony Stark.

 

“Of course not, Tony. Why would I be mad?” He replied. His conversation with Peter was brought to the front of his mind again.

 

“You didn’t ask me for help with your watch this morning...” Tony said, realising that it sounded a bit stupid now that he was saying it out loud. He looked over at Stephen’s wrist to see that he was already wearing it. Had he asked someone else to help him with it? The simple idea of that made Tony’s chest tighten.

 

“I couldn’t find you last night to help me take it off. So I just kept it on.”

 

Tony sighed with relief. A small smile crept up in his face. He really was being stupid.

 

“Didn’t take you for the jealous type, Stark,” Stephen flirted. Was this flirting? He didn’t even know at this point. He was feeling brave, though. “You know, if you wanted to see me first thing in the morning, we could probably figure something out,” he drawled, the implications of his words hitting Stark head-on.

 

“My bed or yours?” He flirted back. He always knew what to say. Stephen’s eyes widened for a moment and he blushed a deep red. “I’m kidding,” Tony chuckled. “But...”

 

“But...?”

 

“I do want to see more of you,” he said. “How about me and you go out tonight? If you want to...”

 

Stephen smiled warmly. “Sounds like a plan to me.” Stark stood up, looking all happy or something. It was gross. Stephen rolled his eyes.

 

“Seven thirty, then. Don’t be late,” he said as he swaggered out of the room.

 

“And what are you gonna do if I am?”

 

“You don’t even want to know.”

 

——————

 

Now was a moment where Stephen wished he could use magic. Twist and contort the strings of his fate to make tonight go well.

 

Shaking not only by nature, but from nerves too, Stephen pulled on his shirt. This was the only smart shirt he had - Pete had dropped it off to Stephen a few days ago. It’s almost as if destiny had whispered to the child: Stephen will need this soon.

 

///

 

“Mr. Strange?” Peter said, finding Stephen reading in his bedroom. Strange shut the heavy book and looked up at the boy.

 

“Yes, Peter?”

 

“I got you this today,” he said, handing Stephen a bag. Looking inside Stephen saw... a shirt? He was confused.

 

“Oh, you really didn’t have to get me something,” Stephen said while smiling warmly up at Peter.

 

“Take it out of the bag,” Peter said, looking excited. With his shaky hands, Stephen took out the shirt and unfolded it. He tried to hide the disappointment on his face. It had buttons. “See what the buttons do...” Peter said.

 

“Kid, I’m not sure that I can-“

 

“Just try and pull them apart,” Peter said. Stephen took a deep breath. The kid was just trying to be nice.

 

Not expecting much to come from it, Stephen fiddled with the top button of the shirt. He pulled the front of the shirt apart and it opened easily. He brought it back together and it snapped closed. Then he realised: these weren’t buttons. They were magnets.

 

“I hope you like it,” Peter said. “I had the idea when my friend in the tech lab was using the magnets for a physics thingy. He said I could take them once he was done so I made that for you,” he said, cheerily and matter-of-factly.

 

“I love it,” Stephen said, his voice quivering. He was about to cry. He walked up to Peter and gave him the tightest hug his muscles would let him. And as soon as Peter left the room he put on the shirt and sobbed.

 

\\\\\

 

Snapping the shirt closed on his body, he grinned at the memory. He looked at the time on his watch, which was laying on the top of his dresser. Seven twenty-five. He had five minutes. Just as he was about to sit down on his bed and get ready to count the agonising seconds tick by, he heard a knock on his door. He didn’t have to ask who it was. He always knocked like that.

 

“Come in,” Stephen called then watched as the door crept open with baited breath.

 

“You look lovely,” Tony said quietly, undramatically. It was genuine; Stephen could tell that it was.

 

“As do you,” he replied, allowing his eyes to fall upon every inch of Tony, deciding that he didn’t feel like pretending not to notice or care.

 

“I just need help with one more thing,” Stephen said, as he outstretched a hand to Tony, silver watch in his grasp. Tony grinned from ear to ear as he took the watch and Stephen’s wrist, working his magic once more. Tony could feel Stephen’s pulse quicken under his touch as he let his fingertips linger on Strange’s wrist.

 

“Steady, doctor,” he said, still grinning. Stephen flushed red, and cleared his throat in an attempt to make himself look less awkward. It didn’t work.

 

“Are we heading out or what?”

 

———————

 

The restaurant was nice. Tony hadn’t booked the whole place out - they had a nice intimate corner while the rest of the place bustled with chatter. The food was great but it was more about the company for Stephen. He could be eating hot dogs off the floor of the street outside so long as he could hear Tony’s laugh as he did it. On second thoughts - maybe not off the floor. Stephen’s relationship with concrete had changed in recent weeks.

 

Tony payed for their meal before they set off into the cold night. They found a deserted ice cream place

 

-“get it - deserted?” Tony laughed. Stephen rolled his eyes-

 

And got a cone each, even though it was chilly outside. Tony tipped them nicely; mustn’t get much business in the winter.

 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Stephen muttered, staring up at the stars. He loved those distant suns, galaxies, lives. He knew what was out there and he still didn’t dare to try and fathom it. A million worlds, wound like a thread, entangled into their own. And yet the people here still had time to think about trivia like money or love. Stephen chuckled. He was guilty of so much more than that.

 

Tony flicked his eyes up to the sky, but didn’t linger. He didn’t like it much. Everything he’d learned was a lie. Aliens, distant galaxies, inhabited planets, Gods. They were all real. And he hated it. Something that was out of his control and something who’s control he was unknowingly under; it unsettled him. God of thunder. God of war and death. Was nothing left to chance? Beautiful and random probability?

 

God of love.

 

“Not talking about me, are you?” Tony joked, not wanting to stay on his current train of thought.

 

“‘Course not,” Stephen replied. “When there are much better words like-“ he lingered. Was this wise?

 

“Like clueless, arrogant, and annoying?”

 

“-like loving, kind, and gorgeous.” Stephen said. Tony looked down. He was smiling inside. He didn’t quite know how to translate that to the exterior.

 

“Let’s sit,” Tony said after a while as they passed a bench. It was on the edge of a grassy landing in the centre of the darkening city. The orange glow of the lamps just about permeated the darkness.

 

Sitting, they watched the city roll by. It was barely slower at night. Cars still whizzed and hooted in the distance. Grass still swayed in the menacing breeze which snapped at noses and fingertips. Footsteps still rattled like drums in every direction. Tony reached out for Stephen’s hand. He felt the soft tremors as he let their hands settle together on the bench. The metal slats were cold. Stephen’s hand was warm. The difference was electrifying.

 

Stephen didn’t say anything. He wasn’t even nervous like he had expected to be - he felt calm. Like this is exactly what was meant to happen.

 

The two sat for who-knows-how-long in blissful silence.

 

“It’s going to rain in twenty minutes,” Stephen said, not looking over at Tony. He was still a little way away with his thoughts.

 

“How do you know?” Tony asked, also looking ahead.

 

“I can feel it,” he replied. “I still have magic in me. I can choose when to use it. I can’t choose when to feel it.”

 

“Do you ever still use it?” Tony asked.

 

“If there was a fight - a call for us - I would. That’s my duty. And I like using it. I just think that I shouldn’t take it for granted in my day to day life. I practise every night, just simple stuff. Playing with the lights, calling cats over from the next apartment block. Floating and stuff. I make portals and take walks wherever I want. The walking’s all me, though,” he said, thoughtfully. “Want to see something now?” He asked.

 

“Only if you feel like it,” Tony replied as he began to sit up to face Strange.

 

Stephen raised a shaky hand to near his chest. As the magic began to flow down his arm, the tremors steadied. Then something was happening in the palm of his hand. Slowly at first, but then faster. A little plant was beginning to grow. Tony watched as the delicate thing got bigger and bigger, pink petals flourishing from thin air. Stephen let creeping vines climb up his arms to his neck, roots cascade off his body and down to the concrete floor. Stems grew up the nearby lamppost and red petals smothered the light, setting a fiery glow around the place. It was breathtaking.

 

There was silence once more as Tony observed the garden which appeared out of nowhere. Everything was still. Then the heavens opened and rain came flooding down.

 

“I told you.”

 

———————

 

When they arrived back at the building, it was uncharacteristically quiet. Rain hammered on the windows, but the sound melted into the background. Tony and Stephen were sopping wet and dripping water everywhere they walked. Removing the wet jackets was a start. Before Stephen went to his room to get changed into something dry, he turned to Tony.

 

“Can you take my watch off?” He asked, the question now comfortable and familiar. Tony walked over and undid the clasp, then pulled the watch slowly off Stephen’s wrist. His skin was wet with rain. Before he even had a chance to blink, Stephen had a hand rested on the side of Tony’s neck. The other was at the small of his back, under his jumper, guiding him gently forwards. Stephen dipped his head down to touch their lips.

 

Tony reciprocated almost immediately, being slow and gentle. He set down the watch gently on the kitchen counter while still kissing Stephen, who was taking small steps forwards, meaning Tony had to inch back. The movement continued until Tony’s back hit the closed door, where he was gently pinned as the kiss continued. All movements were slow and weighty and full of resistance - this was a moment which couldn’t be rushed. Stephen was burning up, and finished the deal with Tony’s bottom lip between his teeth, pulling away slowly.

 

For a full minute there was no conversation. Only breathing. Then Stephen spoke.

 

“I found that telescope...”

 

———————

 

EPILOGUE

 

Peter’s hairs stood up all at once. Alone in his room, nothing had changed. But he smiled. That meant that the front door had opened and Mr. Stark and Mr. Strange were home. The rain outside had been bothering Peter. He chuckled - he knew that neither of them had an umbrella.

 

He went back to doing his homework. Sitting at his desk, the lamp was buzzing from the strain of being on for so long. For a minute everything was still and silent. Then the light flickered. Peter dropped his pen by instinct. His heart rate increase and his chest exploded with warmth.

 

And so he knew. He knew that the night had ended well.

 

And he knew that now wouldn’t be the best time to go to the kitchen for a snack, even though his stomach was calling for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope that you enjoyed this! Please leave any feedback in the comment as I love to hear it! Xx
> 
> Anyone spot that Christine Palmer reference? The doctor who met him at the square was a nod to Christine from the movie! 
> 
> Side note : I have a lot of feelings about the Avengers Endgame trailer, that shit killed me. Tony’s message to Pepper - beautiful and chilling. I actually love their relationship and I just want all my marvel buddies to be happy and safe <3


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